


we laugh, we fumble (taking it day by day)

by Caesium0810



Series: kaemaki week 2020! [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Descriptions of Blood, Descriptions of Throwing up, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kaemaki Week, Kaemaki Week 2020, Pianist Kaede, Suicidal Thoughts, annoying assassin dudes, assassin training is torture, but a bit of comfort at the end, cry, descriptions of food, descriptions of killing, idk what constitutes self harm, kaemaki - Freeform, kinda angsty, laugh, mentions of child abuse, mentions of poison, mild self-harm?, seriously they're disgusting, tenko would rip their heads off and throw them into a volcano, well she's an assassin i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesium0810/pseuds/Caesium0810
Summary: She is lifted out of her thought spiral by the sound of Kaede singing. It’s the same tune as before, but this time it sounds… hopeful. Maki doesn’t even remember the last time she allowed herself to hope. She doesn’t even know what she would hope for if given the right. But she wants to, so much, and in a desperate attempt to distract herself,She sings along.Her voice is weak, shaky, wavering, but Kaede makes no comment, just continues. Somehow, the melody seems brighter.Maki continues to braid....so... remember maki's childhood friend from the orphanage? :)
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Harukawa Maki
Series: kaemaki week 2020! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821856
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: That Writing Place Fic Drop





	we laugh, we fumble (taking it day by day)

**Author's Note:**

> read the tags read the tags read. (claps hands together) the. tags. i'm all for every human in existence reading my fics but if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable (perfectly understandable) you're welcome to yeet away. if you are triggered by any of the above then for the sake of your mental health please do. yeet away, i mean.
> 
> written for day 2 of kaemaki week 2020; prompt is laugh/cry and i've accidentally veered into dark territory
> 
> the title of the fic doesn't really do justice to how heavy some of the content is but it is a reference to a song from the musical Falsettos (What More Can I Say?) which you should totally go watch!!! it's such a fun musical and you'll cry at the end ohoho
> 
> anyway read and enjoy the happy moments while they last :)
> 
> [Trigger Map (feel free to skip these bits if they make you uncomfortable):  
> -Suicidal Thoughts: from 'She remembers the poison.' to 'Two fingers push her lips apart'  
> -Vomiting: from 'He finishes with a hard shove' to 'It is only when she is prodded back to her room']

Maki kneels on the floor of her room, braiding the blonde hair of the girl seated in front of her. On the wooden floorboards, a worn book lies open, detailed instructions printed on its yellowed pages. Maki dutifully follows each step, checks each photo. She is unskilled- stray strands of gold escape the roughly woven ropes; the hair on the top of Kaede's head is uneven and bulges up in some places and it’s _so_ messy;

She finishes anyway, fingers deftly wrapping a hair tie round the end of the braid to close it off. That, at least, she can do. She returns her hands to her lap and fidgets, pinching each of the fingers on her left hand with her right in turn. 

The other girl feels the release of tension in her hair and excitedly chirps, “Is it done?”

Maki nods before realizing the blonde can’t see her, and offers a small affirmative hum. Her nerves tingle in her chest, tickle her throat as Kaede pulls the braid over her shoulder to inspect it for herself.

She hears a squeal.

“Maki, it’s so pretty! I look like a princess straight out of a fairytale castle!” The blonde girl turns around excitedly to face Maki, amazement and admiration evident in her purple eyes.

Maki frowns. “But it’s so messy. I want to do it again.”

“You don’t have to; I love it! This is only your first time doing a braid, right? You’re so amazing!” Kaede beams, gripping Maki’s hands tightly. “I tried to braid my hair last week, and it turned out _awful_. I got so many knots in my hair that Miss Miyazawa spent a whole hour undoing them! So, you should be proud of yourself!” she finishes, playfully poking Maki in the chest.

“… You really think so?” she says, still doubtful.

Kaede smiles, a bright smile that reaches Maki’s heart and soothes all her worries. “I mean what I said! If you don’t believe me, I guess I’ll have to make you.” She gives a cheeky grin. “I’m a princess now, remember?” She stands up, clearing her throat dramatically before speaking in a haughty accent.

“I, Princess Kaede of the Harumatsu Kingdom, hereby order you, Maki Harukawa, to be proud of yourself and smile!”

The accent is ridiculous and they both know it; Maki bursts into laughter, uttering a ‘yes, Your Highness’ before giving in to another peal of giggles. She gives Kaede a light shove and the blonde fakes falling over, seizing Maki by the shoulders and tackling her into a barrel roll. They stop when Maki’s back hits a wall, both of them grinning. The braid is even more messy now; more strands of sunlight are sticking out of Kaede’s head haphazardly and it honestly looks like a bird’s nest at this point but Maki finds, surprised, that she doesn’t care, not as long as her best friend is happy.

She laughs. They laugh, and it reaches the treetops outside her window, drifting off into the vast blues and purples of the sky as the sun sets.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

Maki is in the yard of the orphanage, curled up next to a worn toy stove under a yellow plastic roof. It is spring, and she and Kaede are playing house with the other children.

“Hey, daaaaddddd!” She turns to find a pouting Yui sitting in the grass, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

“Yes, son?” she asks, deepening her voice slightly in an imitation of a caring father.

“Shinta pushed me!” The boy complains, pointing to a group of children in the distance. Maki shakes her head, amused. The twins are always getting up to all sorts of antics. That being said, she isn’t entirely sure what to do in this scenario. In the storybooks, it’s always the mothers who comfort the crying children.

So she calls for her.

“Kaede, come here! Our son’s been hurt!” Not two seconds after she utters the last syllable, Kaede immediately rushes over from where she was having a tea party with Chihime and her stuffed animals and starts tending to Yui’s ‘injuries’. She kneels next to the boy, talking to him in a kind manner.

Maki has never had a knack for acting, so she’s pretty sure she’s a terrible father to the other children, but Kaede seems to somehow possess a natural motherly instinct. Comforting words stream from her mouth with ease as if she’s done it all her life, and her hands are gentle and soothing as they wrap ‘bandages’ around Yui’s arm.

Maki wishes, suddenly, that she had a mother like Kaede.

Out of the blue, the other girl starts to sing, and Maki and Yui stare, transfixed. She doesn’t recognize the tune, but it is beautiful, clear as a bluebird’s song. Her heart soars with the notes into the cerulean sky, over the clouds and through the emerald leaves of the trees down below. She closes her eyes and listens intently, and she thinks, blissfully, that she has never heard anything more pleasant in her life.

The tune is even more beautiful in Kaede’s voice.

“Ha! Tag, you’re it, dad!” Suddenly, she is jolted awake by a shove to her left side. Shinta. Of course. As far as Maki is concerned, fathers don’t normally play tag, but there’s no way she’s losing to a bunch of five-year-olds, right? She darts across the lawn, her footsteps ringing in the afternoon air, and she is chased by the giddy laughter of children as warm sunlight strikes her back.

Her hair blows in the wind, and she laughs into the breeze, feeling as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

The men have come again.

They’re here every once in a while. Initially, everyone thought they were planning to adopt a child, but week after week they visit, only to leave as quietly as they came. They claim they are from an organization called the Holy Salvation Society, but they do not seem kind nor compassionate. They do nothing but watch the children play―in the yard, in the hallways, in the foyer―and stand there, whispering to themselves.

(Maki once caught one of the men standing in the doorway of Chihime’s room, watching her as she slept, peacefully unaware that she was being observed. She has never told anyone apart from Kaede, but since then, she’s acquired a sharp distaste for their black suits and shadowed faces. She’s taken to keeping her own door shut at night and during naptime, sticking a chair under the doorknob so it doesn’t budge.)

She is hiding in a dark corner, eavesdropping on a hushed conversation between Miss Miyazawa and the men. She remembers how Miss Miyazawa seemed to recognize the men even on the first day Maki saw them come here, which wouldn’t have been a concern on its own, except…

She’s clearly afraid of them. She tries not to show it in front of Maki and the others, tries not to scare the children, but Maki is ten years old now, and acutely observant. It’s none of her business, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried.

It’s a good enough reason to be eavesdropping, even if she knows she shouldn’t. Even if she knows she might get caught.

She puts her ear to the wall, careful not to make a sound.

“We’ve been considering,” one of the men says. “After weeks of detailed observation and discussion, we have come to a conclusion that we are satisfied with.”

“W- Which one of them do you want?” Miss Miyazawa’s voice. She’s trying to remain courteous, but her voice is quivering. Maki feels her left hand balling into a tight fist. ‘Which one’? Could she mean…

“We have our eyes on the blonde girl,” another man says. Maki tenses. The blonde? There aren’t many kids with blond hair in the orphanage, she thinks, and she hopes, she _hopes_ it’s not her they’re talking about―

“I- I think I know who you’re looking for…” Miss Miyazawa’s voice pulls Maki back to reality and she realizes she’s missed the last few exchanges. She concentrates. “Could it be… Akamatsu?” Miss Miyazawa says, flipping through something―the directory, probably to show them a picture of Kaede. Maki clutches the hem of her shirt, suddenly made aware of how loudly she’s breathing. She attempts to control it, to keep her breathing slow and even.

_In, out._

“Yes, that’s the one,” the first man says. “We’d like to take her with us by the end of the week.” There’s no denying it now. The men are going to take Kaede. These creepy, silent, dark-clothed men―

They’re going to _take Kaede_.

She hears Miss Miyazawa tuck the directory back behind the counter. “A- Are you sure she’s the one you want? I mean, she’s talented, but I’m not sure if she would suit your purposes very well… Ah, we’re having a new little boy come in next week, and I hear he’s quite the athlete… top of his class in physical education! How I wish I had a gift like that when I was young…” the artificial casualness, the weak attempt to make small talk is smothering, suffocating, “… perhaps you gentlemen would like to wait awhile and reconsider?”

Maki hears one, two footsteps. She winces.

“We believe the details of our agreement are none of your concern,” a strong hand sets itself with controlled force on the wooden countertop, “Miss Miyazawa,” the man says in a soft tone that Maki has never heard before, but decides is extremely dangerous. “We suggest you refrain from interfering in our affairs in the future, lest…” she hears the heel of a shoe knock against the counter, hears the faint ‘shing’ of metal followed by a sharp intake of breath, “… we send one of our young professionals here to dispose of you so that we will not be further troubled by your meddling.” He chuckles, a dry, icy sound that scratches against her ears. “I’m sure you would be delighted to see a familiar face, wouldn’t you, Miss Miyazawa?” More footsteps. Someone―probably Miss Miyazawa―exhales shakily. “I will reiterate once more. We would like to have the girl.”

Maki feels herself trembling; tries to calm her movements down before someone spots her. Young professionals? Dispose? Familiar faces…

All of a sudden, she understands. These men have been recruiting children from the orphanage and raising them as killers. Assassins or serial killers, perhaps- the ones she has read about in true crime novels. She tries to stop that train of thought, attempts to remind herself not to jump to conclusions, but she is panicking, her heartbeat roaring like thunder in her ears, and she finds that she cannot remove the possibility from her mind.

And if she’s right? The men will take Kaede away like they said they would, and then what? They’ll train her, probably, force her to learn to wield daggers, pistols, or other weapons Maki doesn’t even know of. They’ll force her to kill, force her to hurt people, force her to get blood on her hands that she will never be able to wash off. Kaede, who cares so much for the people around her. Kaede, who is always so cheerful and optimistic. Kaede, who gives warm smiles and soothing hugs and sings beautiful songs.

Kaede, who is _Maki’s best friend_.

She wouldn’t survive that kind of life. It would break her to pieces, Maki thinks- no, _knows_. Kaede doesn’t deserve that life. They can’t do something so cruel, so heartless, they _can’t_ ―

_In, out. In, out._

She can’t let them take her. She _won’t_ let them take her.

It takes every ounce of self-control Maki can muster to keep herself from running back to her room as quickly as she can. She ducks into the doorway and finds Kaede sitting up in bed, eyes wide. She closes the door as quietly as she can, taking care to fix her chair under the doorknob as securely as possible.

“What took you so long?” the blonde-haired girl whispers. Right, she forgot she told Kaede that she was just going to the bathroom. Maki hates lying to her, but…

“I had a stomach ache…” She makes a face like she’s annoyed and clutches her abdomen with one hand. “Must’ve been something I ate earlier.”

“Oh no, are you feeling better now?” Kaede immediately asks, concern evident on her features. Maki nods, glad her lie wasn’t too obvious.

“Good, then!” Kaede beams, but then her expression dampens. “Hey, Maki?”

“Yeah?”

“Um… what do you think of those men who’ve been visiting lately? Like, do you think they’re here to adopt one of us?”

Maki needs to be careful with her words. “I don’t really like them. They’re kind of creepy.”

“Yeah, I think so too…” Kaede releases a breath, giving Maki a small smile. “Well… we could still be wrong about them, though. Who knows? Maybe they’re nice men, just… y’know, kind of awkward! Or maybe they’re some sort of agents that will take us to a nice family!”

There it is, that blind optimism Maki knows so well. She’d like to believe those words, but after hearing what she just did, she can’t. She remembers those words she heard from the shadows, that ominous tone, and holds back a shudder. She _knows_ she’s not wrong.

She _has_ to protect Kaede.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” she says to soothe the other girl’s nerves. “Maybe.” She internally winces at the massive lie she’s telling her friend, telling _herself_ , that she wishes with all her heart that she could believe. She wishes she didn’t know, she wishes she hadn’t decided to eavesdrop―

But she does know, and she did make that decision. And now she needs to be brave.

She’s brought back to her senses by the sound of Kaede tucking herself in. Maki looks across the room and notices the blonde-haired girl giving her an encouraging smile. It’s uncharacteristically small. Maybe she’s just tired.

“Don’t worry too much, Maki. Everything will be all right in the end, and we’ll probably just laugh and joke about it later!” Kaede lets out a laugh now, but it is a nervous one. Quiet, tentative.

Scared.

Maki tucks herself in under her blanket, facing the wall. She has a plan. She’ll do it tomorrow, she tells herself, more determined than ever. She closes her eyes, picturing Kaede’s golden hair, her bright purple eyes, her rosy cheeks, her cheerful smile…

Her tears soak the pillow as she drifts off to sleep.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

The next day, Maki approaches Miss Miyazawa after lunch, then the men standing solemnly in the foyer. They are skeptical at first, but she looks the tallest one in the eye, her gaze unwavering.

They take her with them when they leave.

She doesn’t dare look back.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

A few weeks later, Kaede is adopted by a kind-looking couple in their mid-thirties. They’re super nice to her, buy her all the clothes and toys she wants, but best of all,

She has a piano.

Well, it’s not solely _hers_ , in the typical sense of the word, but her new parents are very keen on letting her play on it whenever she wants, and even buy her new sheet music from the store downtown. She learns to read it fairly quickly, and after a few months of lessons, she can play simple tunes. Nursery rhymes and lullabies and all that. They’re not much, but every time her fingers touch the keys, a surge of happiness overcomes her. Soon she’s spending almost every afternoon seated in front of the grand instrument, practising and practising. She eagerly learns every new piece she can get her hands on and plays for her parents every Sunday night.

She takes a bow at the end of Bach’s Minuet in G, beaming as her parents clap from their spot on the living room couch.

\- - -

Maki stands in the center of the training room, sweat dripping from her forehead and soaking through her tattered clothes. She’s trained all day, every day for weeks and it’s still not enough. The dagger in her hand is starting to feel familiar, and she hates it, rejects it. She wonders how the boys back at the orphanage ever thought stealing knives from the kitchen would be cool.

She holds her right hand a short distance away from her body―the tip of the blade is sharp. Maki learned that the hard way last week when she accidentally cut her thigh with it, not having paid enough attention to how she was holding the weapon. It still hurts, but she says nothing. These people don’t care about her pain. If she flinches, cries, screams, they mock her. Beat her. She’s learned to keep her feelings to herself.

And so she’s here, feet apart in a fighting stance, dagger in hand, surrounded by training dummies. She grits her teeth. It will be real people taking their place someday, she’s told, but she tries not to think about it, pushes the thought from her mind. There’s no point in caring. Rubber, plastic, metal, that’s all they are.

She darts forward, her dagger held in front of her as she slashes through the layers of rubber. It’s taking less effort than it did when she first started. She doesn’t know if she wishes it were harder. She moves quickly across the room, finally reaching the last dummy. She reaches up and makes a cut where its throat would be.

The beep of a stopwatch. “You’ve improved… slightly.” The man sitting in the chair in front of her says, an air of dissatisfaction emanating from his disdainful frown. “Do I have any reason to believe you haven’t been working as hard as we expect you to?” She shakes her head no, then thinks better of it.

“No, sir.”

“You’ll have to do better than just saying the word, little girl,” he sneers, getting up from his chair. He pushes down on Maki’s forehead with one finger and presses his face so close to hers that she can smell his breath. Spearmint.

“Don’t think, little girl. Act. You can’t escape this life. You’re my property now, and I’ll make sure you know it. So take that little knife of yours and go stabby-stab.” He takes the dagger from her and pushes the tip against her chest. She glowers at him, but he only laughs. He stands up straight again, throwing the dagger on the floor. It makes a sharp clanging noise. “We’ll start you on stealth training tomorrow, I suppose.”

And as he walks away, Maki wonders if she will ever smile again.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

Kaede marvels at the sheer scale of the restaurant she’s just walked into. There are so many tables, so many guests, and―a waiter speeding past with a plate catches her eye―so much food. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose.

She doesn’t think she’s smelled anything tastier in her life.

She sits down at a table with her parents and they hand her a menu. It’s so big and so thick that Kaede has to use two hands to hold it. She flips through it, looking at each photo and reading each description, and wonders how on earth there exist so many different varieties of dishes. There are a whole two pages solely dedicated to katsudon, which just- her mind can’t even process it, there’s so much to choose from. Her parents give her a loving smile.

“It’s your eleventh birthday today, so we wanted to give you a birthday surprise!” her father says, and Kaede is ecstatic. She wasn’t aware that birthday surprises could consist of more than a slice of cake and a day off from doing chores, but what does she know? She pinches her arm lightly just to be sure… Yep, this is real, all right.

She ends up taking a whole twenty minutes simply to decide what to order. The waiter, Mister Idachi, winks at her and pulls an origami crane from his vest pocket. He comes back after five minutes, a plate of the fattest salmon sashimi Kaede has ever seen balanced atop his palm. After that comes a mouth-watering katsudon, a bowl of udon noodle soup, strawberry ice-cream, pudding, and just when she thinks they’ve eaten everything they ordered-

A birthday cake arrives at the table. It is small, considering the fact that only three people will be eating it, but it is decorated with intricate fondant flowers, music notes and pink and blue icing. On the top of the cake someone has written _Happy Birthday, Kaede!_ in chocolate, and two huge candles form the number 11. “Happy birthday!” her parents say, and they cheer and clap excitedly.

They tell Kaede to make a wish. For a second there are far too many things she wants- she wants to make more friends in school. She wants a pet rabbit. She wants to become a pianist and play at Carnegie Hall in America.

But then she knows, and she squeezes her eyes shut, wishing harder than she has ever wished for anything in her life.

She wants to see Maki again.

\- - -

“Eat up,” they say to Maki as they push her dinner tray through the hatch. It’s piled with slightly more rice than she’s used to, has two pieces of meat instead of the usual one. She raises an eyebrow. That’s unusual. She does anyway, not because she’s grateful for the extra food, but simply because there is nothing else to do but eat.

When she finishes, she is escorted to the training room. The cement walls are empty; the floor is mostly bare save for one wooden chair in the middle. She is seized by the shoulders and pushed towards the chair by two men, and is forced to sit down. They tie up her arms and legs. One of them―the taller one―shows her a small vial filled with clear liquid.

“Poison,” he tells her. “If you ever get caught during a mission―kidnapped, interrogated, tortured, whatever―be prepared to die before giving out any information.” He looks her dead in the eye. “Remember, girlie, your life is meaningless. You’re nothing more than a pawn in the ranks of our order. Your death means nothing to us anyway, so you damn well better suck it up and chug if that time ever comes. And don’t even think about trying to be smart. If you snitch and get out alive, I’ll send someone else to hunt you down myself. Better to die by your own hand than mine, ain’t that right, girlie?” He tucks the vial into Maki’s dress pocket.

He takes a few steps back, and immediately the other men are pouncing on her with clubs and bats and raw punches; they hit her so hard that the chair flies off the floor, landing on its back so that Maki is facing the ceiling. She takes a hard punch to her left cheek, and grits her teeth.

She does nothing. Two men remove her limbs from the legs of the chair so that her hands are bundled together, as are her feet. They pull in opposite directions, stretching Maki as if they are playing a game of tug-of-war and she is the rope. She wriggles, but the firm grip they have on her doesn’t budge. A hunk of metal slams into her stomach from above and she feels an instant surge of nausea and _pain_ , and she hates that she’s gotten used to the feeling, _hates_ that there are somehow still new ways for them to torture her. She is stretched taut, and she feels like her arms are about to rip clean out of their sockets. The hunk of metal comes down again, heavier.

She does nothing. The men drop her onto the ground from about a metre and a half in the air and she takes care not to let her head hit the ground, letting the brunt of the impact fall on her upper back instead. She barely has time to wince before the men start kicking her from all directions, the hard tips of their boots slamming into every part of her body and she just _doesn’t want to be here anymore_ , doesn’t want to feel the pain, doesn’t want to open her eyes tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow to all of this…

She remembers the poison. Filled with a sudden burst of strength, she wriggles her right hand free of her bonds and reaches for her pocket. There it is, the vial, somehow unharmed. She deftly rolls through an opening in the sea of legs surrounding her and goes to the far end of the room. The men’s attacks have slowed, and they are all watching―it registers abruptly in the back of Maki’s mind that perhaps they had not meant for her to actually take the poison. To them it could all be a game, to see how far Maki can go before she can’t stand it anymore, before she pulls out the vial and they take it from her and they record the number of seconds it’s taken them to push Maki to her breaking point.

Well, they have underestimated her agility, and for once, she is glad of it. She pulls out the cork, and before anyone can make a move to stop her, she downs the entire contents of the vial.

 _Better to die by my own hand than yours_ , she thinks, bitterly, as her vision turns black and her legs give out,

And there is a hand grabbing her by the shoulder, holding her up while another hand pushes her chin upwards and a third shoves the mouth of a bottle against her lips. There is liquid lapping against her mouth― _an antidote_ , she realizes, clamming her lips shut to keep from swallowing any of it. She just wants out, she just wants to _not live anymore_ , can there please be _one thing_ in her life she actually has control over―

Two fingers push her lips apart and two more hold her nostrils shut, forcing her to breathe and swallow. The cool liquid runs down Maki’s throat. Her vision returns, her windpipe stops constricting, and physically she feels much better than she did three seconds ago but she _hates_ that she has let this happen, that she is right back where she started. The tallest man, the leader, grabs both sides of Maki’s face with his stupid hands and forces her to look him in the eye.

She spits in his face.

He slaps her.

He looks directly into her eyes, presses his face closer to hers so that their noses are almost touching. He bares his teeth in an ugly snarl. “Your life is _mine_ , girlie, you hear me? You are a nameless little chess piece with no control over anything that happens to you, and you will _suffer_. You will _always_ suffer. Let that be known.”

He finishes with a hard shove and suddenly Maki finds herself retching, her insides flipping themselves inside out and she doesn't even have the energy to run somewhere else before the contents of her stomach spill out onto the cold gray floor, a mess of yellow and green and brown and orange and acrid bile that she tastes in her mouth as the mixture of stomach acid and half-digested food pours out endlessly, barely leaving her with enough time to breathe, and she doesn’t think that she wants to breathe if not for her repulsion towards collapsing in a pool of her own vomit.

There is so much, too much of it, and she remembers the size of the meal she was given. Designed specifically for her current suffering, she thinks, and she gives a bitter chuckle.

Just like an hour ago, she is left with no choice but to continue on as her dinner escapes her body along with the very last shreds of her dignity.

It is only when she is prodded back to her room, stomach empty and aching all over, that she sees the number of days she has counted on the wall and realizes:

Today is Kaede’s birthday.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

Kaede is standing backstage, and she is terrified―today is her first ever piano recital and she’s so excited, but also _so nervous_! Her teacher was nice enough to book a recital hall in a local community centre, and while it isn’t the most extravagant of performance venues, 100 people is still a pretty big first audience.

She takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her hands are shaking a little; she absentmindedly twirls a few strands of her hair around her right index finger, just for the sake of having something to fidget with. Her teacher peeks round the backstage door for one last check-up.

“The audience is seated and waiting. Are you ready?” she says, giving Kaede an encouraging thumbs-up. She nods in return, and her teacher slips back out the door.

 _All right, this is it,_ she tells herself, pumping her fists in front of her chest as a confidence-boosting gesture. _You can do this, Kaede!_

She walks out onto the stage in her new pink dress and bows, sitting down at the piano. The stage lights beam down on her, a bit warmer and brighter than she’d like, but once she rests her fingers on the black and white keys, music takes over her. Her fingers dance across the piano as she performs the works of Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven… Her spirit soars, waltzing through the open air, the stage and the audience melting away into nothing. She is alone with the music as the melodies envelop her like soft silk and fluffy clouds; her soul sings _cantabile_ ; her fingertips are _leggero_ , _animato_ ; and she is _affetuoso_ , _vivo_ , her heart beating accented beats in time…

Kaede hits the last F-major chord, hands hovering in the air above the keys, and the world is silent. She exhales, stands up, and turns to look out at the audience. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, she sees the smiles.

A chorus of cheers erupt from the seats below as everyone stands up and applauds with gusto―a standing ovation, Kaede thinks, remembers from the movies she’s watched. There are many guests―her parents, her parents’ friends, classmates from school… she’s even invited Miss Miyazawa and some friends from the orphanage. (Shinta and Yui are older, and definitely taller now. Kaede wonders, idly, if they still remember playing house in the yard of the orphanage all those years ago.) They smile up at her, their faces full of delight and wonder, and she remembers to smile back, to bow. The cheers grow louder in a passionate _crescendo_.

She straightens, giddy from the praise, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

_This is the best day ever!_

\- - -

Maki walks into the subway station for the first time. She does not know what to do with her ticket, so she watches the people around her and copies them.

She is thirteen now, and she’s been sent on her first mission.

She’s not alone, of course―the men don’t trust her enough―and the idea hits her that any passers-by might think that the tall, dark, stern-looking man trailing closely behind her is her father. She wonders if they would think, mistakenly, that he is a good one.

She frowns and tightens her fists. She walks faster.

Three stations to Shibuya. Two. One. The doors open and she alights. A tiny voice in the back of her mind echoes the note of the door-closing alert, registers it vaguely as the first note of the song Kaede sang once.

Maki smothers the thought before she can truly hear it.

They walk a short distance to the New National Theatre. The man stops her when they are outside the entrance, attaches a small video camera to her collar. She understands, of course. They’re watching her every move. Be quick, be ruthless, be efficient. Act smart or she’ll be sorry.

She goes in, alone.

There’s her target, looking just as he did in the files she was shown. Square-rimmed glasses, jet-black hair, grey suit, golden wristwatch, leather shoes. He’s smiling now, chattering to a few other guests all clad in evening wear, all of them looking happy to be here.

Happy, and blissfully ignorant. So ignorant.

She waits in a shadow, and eventually, her target walks away towards the restrooms. He waves jovially to the other guests before heading off on his way, and they wave back, asking him to join them some other time. Maki follows.

The corridor leading to the men’s room is narrow and dark. The echo of his footsteps ricochets off the marble walls. Maki’s are silent, and for a fleeting second she wants to be noticed, wants to be heard…

She needs to seize this chance or she will fail. Before she can stop herself, she darts towards the grey-suited man from behind and pulls out her dagger. She uses her other hand to reach up and cover his mouth as she pushes him backwards, using her body to cushion the fall so that he doesn’t hit the ground hard enough to produce a noise. She holds her dagger over his neck, she meets his terrified gaze for a moment―

Rubber, plastic, metal, that’s all he is.

She cuts.

Blood spills from the man’s throat and onto the marble floor. The liquid is an ominous dark red, and as it spreads across the tiles Maki feels as if it is about to strangle her soul. She’s killed someone, a real person, and she’s been so efficient about it that there isn’t even any blood on her hands.

They are cold, as lifeless as the body lying before her.

She wants to wash them, scrub furiously at them until the skin is rubbed raw, but she has no time. She will never have time.

So she leaves, her breaths quick and shallow, her chest tight, her steps as silent as they were when she came.

She exits the theatre. She is given a smirk. The video camera is removed from the collar of her shirt.

They take the subway back. Three stations. Two. One. She finds she cannot look anyone in the eye, imagines thin red lines on the throats of every person she sees.

She is sent to her room, and in the darkness of the night with the frigid air on her skin,

She takes her hands, her _cold-blooded, murderous hands_ , and claws at her arms, desperate to feel _something_ as her fingernails scratch her skin and dig into her flesh. She wants to scream, but no voice comes out.

She shudders violently, shaking with the knowledge of who she is, who she has become,

And she cries.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

Maki walks along the streets of Sapporo at night.

She’s long since finished her assassin training. The men have recruited new children, innocent faces with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. She wishes, for some reason, that she knew their names. The leader, the tall man with the scar across his right cheek, still assigns her on the occasional mission every once in a while, but for the most part, they’ve gotten bored of her now, the sadistic beasts.

Most people her age are in their final years at university, perhaps working stable jobs, having a normal life. She could do that, Maki supposes, but she doesn’t trust herself to be around people, not anymore.

She can’t touch someone without feeling the warm blood under their skin, can’t look at someone without seeing their eyes lifeless and glazed over.

So she stays in her apartment all day, living off what meager income she gets from her assassin jobs. She never goes to restaurants, never drops by the pub. She pushes away the neighbours when they offer her food and knitted tea cozies.

Occasionally, she draws. She doesn’t know when the habit began, but at two in the morning one day she got out of bed, grabbed a pencil and a stray piece of notebook paper, and in a dazed state of mind, started to sketch. She always draws the same thing―light-coloured hair, bright, lively eyes, a warm, encouraging smile. Her hand has practically memorized the path of the pen across the paper. The image follows her everywhere she goes, and a thousand drawings, all looking the same but different, are plastered all over the walls of her apartment.

She can never get the eyes right.

Tonight, though, Maki is out and about. She looks down at her phone, avoiding eye contact, following the little blue dot on the map all the way to the Sapporo Concert Hall. There is a piano concert today―she saw a few posters in the mall when she went to buy groceries last week, and despite everything, she knew with what little wreckage left of her heart that she wanted to be there. She hasn’t listened to a single bit of music in many, many years, and she yearns to hear it, but more importantly…

She picks up the ticket she ordered online from the machine in the lobby. It reads:

_Piano Recital: Kaede Akamatsu plays Debussy_

Her childhood friend, now a professional concert pianist, here in Sapporo. Maki had never imagined she would see Kaede’s name or face ever again, but here she is, looking at the words printed in black ink on the glossy piece of paper. It feels fragile between her fingers, and she feels as if it will dissolve into thin air if she isn’t careful. She clutches it tightly.

Slowly, the people crowding the lobby move into the concert hall. There is too much heat, too many bodies, too much _life_ around her, and Maki feels like she can’t breathe. She shows her ticket to the usher, who directs her to a seat in the very back. She utters a curt ‘thank you’ and is met with a polite smile, one she doesn’t deserve.

She could slit the lady’s throat in a heartbeat, and in the darkness of the concert hall, the surrounding audience members would be none the wiser.

She doesn’t.

Soon, the curtains open, and everyone claps as a figure in a rose-coloured gown walks out from the left wing. The figure bows and beams down at the audience, which welcomes her enthusiastically.

Maki takes in every detail of the figure standing on stage. She has the same hair as she remembers but longer, done up in an elaborate bun with loose strands framing the sides of her face, giving her an elegant silhouette. She is wearing makeup―her eyelids are dusted with shimmers of gold eyeshadow, highlighting the warm plum of her irises, and Maki can do nothing but stare.

She hasn’t seen those eyes in so long.

Kaede takes another deep bow, sits down in front of the piano and places her hands atop the keys. The applause dies down, and she begins.

The first note catches Maki off guard immediately. It is clear, bright, and pure, and it touches her heart in a place she has not felt in years. She flips open the program to read the name of the piece. _Clair de Lune (Moonlight)_ , it reads, and she marvels at the way the composer managed to capture the pureness of something like moonlight and put it into notes on paper. For the first time in a long while she feels as if she can close her eyes, lay back and not worry about being ambushed by a sinister shadow in the dark.

So she does, and suddenly her head is clear, and she is transported to another world.

She feels as if she is sitting by a lake, the reflection of trees in the gently rippling surface of the water, and she is breathing in the cool night air. The full moon is hanging overhead, casting tendrils of white light onto the leaves overhead. Some light is filtered through the branches onto the grass surrounding her; she imagines putting her hand in a spot of it, and suddenly she is holding pure heaven.

The heaven is streaming through her fingertips, and when it comes out on the other end, it is not tinted blood red.

The moon looks down on her with its gentle gaze, and though she is alone like she always is, for the first time in forever she does not feel lonely. She feels serene.

She feels _safe_.

She stays still in this reverie until the final note rings out through the silence of the hall, and suddenly everything is quiet once more. She hears the applause, and does nothing. She remains there in the velvet seat, head leaning back, eyes closed, hands resting comfortably in her lap, for once not twitching for a weapon. She finds herself wishing this could go on forever.

Kaede plays piece after piece as Maki listens, entranced, to every note, every flowing melody. She has no idea what the pieces are, how much time has passed, who she is in this moment in time, for all that matters is the music surrounding her, enveloping her, washing her troubles away.

A note, and then silence. Applause starts up and dies down again. Maki expects another note, but is met with the sound of someone tapping on a microphone. She looks up.

“Thank you, everyone! I hope you enjoyed _Deux Arabesques_!” Kaede is speaking, and her voice sounds more mature, but otherwise exactly as Maki remembers it. “Now, for my finale, I wanted to share something a little different with you all, something I hold dear to my heart. It’s not by Debussy; it’s actually a song I remember from my childhood, back from before I learned to play the piano. I guess I was born to make music, because even as a little girl I loved to sing. I still do, and there are so, so many songs that I adore, but this one has never left me because―” Kaede takes a breath before continuing, and Maki realizes that it is shaky, “―because it reminds me of a dear friend who I haven’t seen in ten years,” Maki gasps in realization, “and if she’s listening, I want her to know that I miss her so much and I want to see her again and… she deserves all the love in the world.” Kaede finishes, her voice breaking a little, and sits back down at the piano. She starts to play, and―

Maki starts to cry.

It’s the same tune from her childhood, the one Kaede sang all those years ago, back when they were playing house at the orphanage. The only difference is that there is a hint of sadness in between the notes now as Kaede brings her fingers over each key, and Maki realizes _just how much_ she has missed her friend all these years they’ve been apart. She knows the melody by heart, and she sings along quietly under her breath, and she is shaking, _shaking_ ,

And it is over, in the space of what seems like a heartbeat. Kaede steps out from the piano to bow to the audience just as Maki looks up,

And they make eye contact.

Kaede’s eyes widen in shock.

Maki tries to tear her gaze away, but is unable to.

Kaede makes a hasty bow, then walks off the stage, barely able to keep her composure.

Maki rushes out as soon as the lights come back on.

She is outside the Sapporo Concert Hall in the middle of the night, and she has _no_ idea what time it is or where she’s going, but she’s running, _running,_

“Maki!” a familiar voice stops her in her tracks, and she turns around reflexively to see Kaede, still in concert attire, rushing towards her with tears in her eyes. Before Maki can say anything, Kaede hugs her, and she discovers she can’t move.

“Maki, I missed you so much!” the other girl―woman―chokes out through tears, tears that soak through Maki’s shirt onto her shoulder. She doesn’t know what to say―there’s so much to be said, and yet she doesn’t trust herself to say a word of it. The only thing she knows is her name, her name…

“K- ” Maki starts, and stops herself. She can’t get attached to people. She doesn’t deserve friendship. She is a horrible being. “Akamatsu,” she returns, and hurt flashes in the blonde’s sparkling eyes. All Maki can do is stare at the ground.

“Maki, what’s wrong?” Kaede asks softly, and Maki hasn’t heard anyone speak to her like this in _so long_. She’s reminded of their last night together at the orphanage, back when they were still innocent children who had hardly seen anything of the world. Kaede was scared, and she was going to protect her.

She has to protect her.

“You can’t get too close to me,” she says, pulling away. She doesn’t care― _shouldn’t_ care about the hurt in the blonde’s expression―“I don’t think you understand what happened in the ten years I’ve been gone. I- I can’t say too much, but it’s far too dangerous for you to be around me. You should just _leave me alone_ , I- ” she bites the bullet, a tear runs down her cheek, she wonders why she doesn’t just run away, “I’m not the Maki you know―not anymore. Haven’t been for a long time now,” she fights to keep her breathing steady and even, and she barely has enough energy to whisper the next words― “I’m sorry,” she breathes, and she _is_ sorry, sorry that she saved Kaede from the cursed life of being an assassin all those years ago and yet has _still_ managed to disappoint her, to let her down because she is no longer herself.

There is a telltale sting in her nose. She turns away to hide her tears and prepares to leave when a firm hand grabs her shoulder.

“I don’t care about that,” the pianist says, and Maki thinks she is foolish, _so foolish_ , “I don’t care about that at all, Maki. I know you never would’ve wanted things to end up like this… it’s all my fault for not trying harder to stop you, but you wouldn’t talk to me that day and I’ve always wondered if I did something wrong to make you leave me―” she breaks into sobs, “and I know you’re going to tell me that I _should_ care, that I should just run away and never try to find you again, but there’s one thing I know and it’s this.” She cups Maki’s face with her hands so Maki is forced to look her in the eye, and she is taken aback by how much emotion is swirling in the plum-coloured irises.

“All these years we’ve been apart, all I wanted was to see you again, Maki. I’ve never, ever wished for anything else since you left, and no matter what you say, I’m just so, so happy to have you back.” Kaede takes Maki’s hands and holds them in her own. They are as gentle and warm as Maki remembers. “We don’t have to go back to how things were before right away; we can work through whatever problems we run into one step at a time. Just- come to my hotel room tonight, and we can talk. Y’know, catch up on things, think about old times… I just want to see you smile again, okay?” Maki knows she should reject the offer, the word is right on the tip of her tongue and she’s just about to say it, when Kaede speaks once more, desperation seeping through her tone.

“Please, Maki. I don’t know what it is you can’t tell me, but… I trust you.”

Maki doesn’t know when the last time someone trusted her was. It’s a stupid move. Kaede hasn’t changed one bit; she’s still so blindly trusting, Maki thinks to herself. She looks at Kaede, and she can’t bear to see the crimson line tracing her neck, her beautiful eyes glazed over as death takes over them, and yet…

She yearns to be trusted again.

So she agrees before she can decide against it, and follows the blonde as she leads them down the streets of Sapporo, brighter with the serene light of the moon lighting their way.

❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈

Maki steps into the hotel room and takes in her surroundings. There is a large bed in the far corner, and next to it is a bedside table with a potted plant and a coffee machine. The carpet under her feet is fluffy. There’s a television, a fancy bathroom and a tall wooden closet. She does not remember any of these things from her childhood.

The room smells like lavender and hot chocolate, though, and despite the fact that she knows Kaede doesn’t live here permanently, it makes the place feel like home.

“Take a seat wherever you like!” Kaede calls cheerfully from the bathroom as she gets a change of clothes. Maki is reluctant to disturb the furniture, but after some hesitation she takes the plain wooden chair from the ebony desk and sits in it. Every little sound puts her on alert while she waits.

When Kaede returns from the bathroom, she is dressed in a set of pink pyjamas decorated with music notes. She’s let down her hair, and the golden locks flow down her neck, stopping a little past the shoulders. Even with her makeup gone, she’s beautiful, Maki catches herself thinking.

Kaede sits criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet right in front of Maki and turns to look at her with an awkward, yet friendly smile. “I figured you might not want to talk right away, so how about you braid my hair?” Maki stares in disbelief. Kaede giggles. “I know, I know… it’s kind of random for me to suggest it out of the blue, especially when I’ve just undone my bun, but it’ll be just like old times!” She turns back around, facing away from Maki. “Go on, give it your best shot!”

And just like that, Maki is faced with a head of silky blonde hair. She hesitates to touch it. Her fingertips make contact with a strand when she reaches out, and she is reminded automatically of how she can use them to strangle and suffocate. She tries to ignore the thought as she divides the veil of hair into three equal parts.

Kaede is, quite literally, putting her life in Maki’s hands, and she doesn’t trust herself not to kill her on the spot.

She takes the bundle of hair on the left. Slowly, carefully, she tucks the middle bunch under it and swaps their positions. Now the one on the right and the one in the middle. Rinse and repeat. She pinches the hair hard between her fingers and performs each step with immense concentration, because if she doesn’t focus enough, she might accidentally…

She is lifted out of her thought spiral by the sound of Kaede singing. It’s the same tune as before, but this time it sounds… hopeful. Maki doesn’t even remember the last time she allowed herself to hope. She doesn’t even know what she would hope for if given the right. But she wants to, so much, and in a desperate attempt to distract herself,

She sings along.

Her voice is weak, shaky, wavering, but Kaede makes no comment, just continues. Somehow, the melody seems brighter.

Maki continues to braid.

She gingerly lifts her hands after she finishes, setting them quietly in her lap. She fidgets with her fingers. The braid is messy and skewed to one side, but at least she’s done it. She’s finished the whole thing, and Kaede is still here. Safe. Alive.

The blonde turns around, pulling the braid over her shoulder to admire it. Sure enough, she looks delighted.

“It’s perfect! I look just like a princess from a far-off land!” Kaede gets to her feet and skips round the back of the chair Maki is in, pulling her into an embrace from behind. Kaede looks at Maki and beams, just as brightly as she always did. “Thank you, Maki! You’re amazing.”

Maki looks up at Kaede―at her imperfect braid, her twinkling eyes, her soft rosy cheeks, and her warm, cheerful smile―and she realizes that Kaede means it when she says she trusts her. That Kaede’s willing to support her even if there are more problems with her life than the both of them can handle. That Kaede doesn’t care what Maki is, what she’s become, as long as Maki’s right here with her.

She realizes that if she were to allow herself to hope for one thing, right now, it would be that there are many more of these moments waiting for her in the days to come. A tear runs down her cheek, but she lets it, because for once, it isn’t a result of pain and suffering. And so, finally,

She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> boy that was something
> 
> i’m painfully aware that the fic could have ended really nicely without the last section but i really wanted that recapitulation okay lmao let me have my little moments of indulgence
> 
> also i’ve found that i’m picking up some stylistic tendencies from @sunflower_8’s work owo go read literally all of it everything she writes is,,, so good??? like i am constantly in awe
> 
> hope you all liked (no that's sadistic) the parallels and the contrast :) i tried
> 
> me while writing this and the last fic: how does one write kaede without majorly overusing the word 'smile'
> 
> thank you so, so much for reading this long thing; feedback is welcome and comments make me very happy :3
> 
> please sleep before midnight,  
> kiri


End file.
